Can't Get Enough
by jenron12
Summary: "Are you always this hands-y when a woman gives you medical attention?" she asked. "Only when you're the nurse," he answered. Just a quick one-shot - fluffy Callian goodness. Enjoy!


_**A/N: Standard disclaimer applies. Sadly, I do not own Lie To Me or any of its characters... I sure do love them, though. Especially Cal. *distracted sigh***_

_**This story wasn't planned at all. It literally popped into my head out of the blue, and would not go away until I typed it out. So here you go - hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This one was fun!** _

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Cal was slouched in one of the kitchen chairs, complaining as Gillian stood over him. A few first aid supplies were lined up on the table nearby: cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and bandages. Just the basics… that's all he'd ever let her use on him, anyway, unless it was a legitimate emergency. Which this was not. As far as Cal was concerned, it wasn't worth any fuss at all.

Gillian, however, had a very different opinion.

She smoothed her fingers against his skin as he fidgeted, trying to dodge out of her grasp. "Hold still," she warned. "It'll hurt less."

"It won't hurt at all if you just let me get up," he shot back, dodging again. "You can still play nurse, though. Sounds like a bloody fantastic way to pass the afternoon."

Gillian sighed impatiently and then stood with her hands on her hips, giving him the stink eye. "You're impossible."

Cal grinned, letting his eyes roam over her as she worked. She looked damned cute, and truth be told, he didn't really give a toss about the cut on his forehead at all. When she reached down onto the table for the bag of cotton balls, her pencil skirt shifted just a bit higher on her leg, exposing the back of her knee. Cal sneaked one hand out to stroke her there, surprised to find the skin so warm.

When Gillian jumped beneath his touch, he grinned again.

"Are you always this hands-y when a woman gives you medical attention?" she asked. Her tone was playful, but the words came out in a rush.

"Only when you're the nurse," he answered. She paused and looked down at him again, watching as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. The movement pulled at his scraped skin, making him wince. Gillian caught it instantly, of course.

"I told you to hold still," she sing-songed at him.

"A real rule breaker, I am." More eyebrow wiggling followed his comment, but this time he managed not to wince.

Gillian gave a small laugh. "Obviously."

She poured a little bit of rubbing alcohol on the first cotton ball and grabbed it in one hand as she bent down towards his forehead. Her fingers brushed against his skin, trying to hold him still. "Stop fidgeting," she warned, finally managing to dab at the wound.

Cal hissed in protest as the alcohol came into contact with the injury. "Can't help it," he offered. "It bloody well hurts."

"Of course it does," she said. There wasn't much sympathy in her tone. "Now hold still, and I'll be finished that much sooner."

She pulled back again, reaching for clean cotton and more alcohol, and tossing the soiled one in the trash bin at her feet. Cal slouched lower in his chair and smiled up at her, victorious in his fidgeting. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he didn't care.

Gillian just stared at him for a second, debating her next move. Then she flashed him a look that clearly said '_game on_' and turned back to the supplies. "You asked for it," she warned, tipping the bottle of alcohol against the white cotton.

She was doing a bang-up job of trying to be stern, but his mind kept jumping into the gutter every time she scolded him. Naughty nurse Gillian, he mused. His mind's eye pictured her instantly, proper attire and all. Hell… sweet nurse Gillian was equally appealing. They hadn't spent nearly enough time together during the last few weeks, and it was doing crazy things to both his attention span _and_ his libido.

Gillian was oblivious to his daydream. She frowned and held his head still, leaning in for a closer look. The cut wasn't too bad, actually – it was nothing that needed stitches, and nothing that wouldn't heal by itself in a week or so. He was lucky it wasn't worse.

"Tell me again how this happened?" she asked. Her tone was the epitome of irritation as she dabbed against his bloody hairline. She pulled the red-tinged cotton ball away seconds later, and exchanged it for a clean one.

"He started it," Cal said matter-of-factly, as if that were explanation enough. He didn't offer any details on who exactly '_he'_ was supposed to be, and she didn't ask. It didn't seem necessary.

More fidgeting ensued. "Wanker didn't leave me much choice, yeah?"

He glanced up at Gillian, but she didn't look impressed.

"Guarantee he looks worse than I do," he continued, practically puffing up in the chair as he spoke.

Gillian frowned and doused another cotton ball in rubbing alcohol before holding it against his skin. It was drenched this time, and the excess droplets beaded in his hair and ran in two tiny rivulets down his cheek.

"Son of a…!" he yelled, not expecting the sting. He looked toward Gillian, hoping for sympathy but finding a smirk instead. Just as he'd suspected… she'd done it on purpose.

"Sorry," she said lightly, feeling his eyes on her as she worked.

"Liar."

She smiled. "Will you hold still now?"

He considered it. Now he was the one wearing the smirk. "Depends."

Gillian's hands went to her hips again. "On what?" she asked.

"On whatever activity you had in mind," he said. "Some require more movement than others."

Cal's eyes twinkled with mischief as he waited for her answer, but she didn't give him one right away.

She pulled two bandages out of their box instead, unwrapped them, and applied them to the cut at his hairline, overlapping the ends slightly as she worked. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was long. Too long to cover with a single strip. Task complete, she bent forward to inspect her handiwork. He was finally holding still, but something told her he was too busy trying to get an eye line down the front of her blouse to worry about anything else.

Gillian rested her palms on her thighs, not bothering to straighten up. He was blatantly staring now, to the point that he hadn't noticed that all of her movements had stilled. "Get enough of a look?" she gently laughed.

"Never," Cal scoffed, cupping his hands around her waist. He gave one quick pull and she landed in his lap, giggling.

Her arms wound around his neck in an effort to steady herself, and his arms pulled her body closer still, until there was no space between them. One eager hand wound its way up her spine and past the curve of her shoulder until she could feel his fingers thread through her hair and tug lightly.

She could see the dilation in his pupils… hear his shallow, quick breathing… feel the heat from his body. Her reactions matched his, and he gave an approving smile as she studied him. Once her eyes settled on his lips, the smile widened. "Did you?" he asked, echoing her question.

Gillian gave a hum of approval – a cross between a growl and a groan – and shifted a bit in his lap. Fidgeting, just like he had done. Teasing, just like he had done. A minute later, when the game began to get just a bit too heated, she grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled, so that he rose up to join her as she tipped forward toward his mouth.

Millimeters from his lips, she stopped and brought both hands to frame his face. Under the soft glow of light in the room, she caught a glimpse of her gold band as it stood out against his skin, and she smiled again – for an entirely new mix of reasons.

"I don't think I'll ever get enough," she said. When she finally leaned forward and kissed him, the twinkle in her eye was a perfect match for his.


End file.
